


We Laughed Too

by KaitlinH27



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AND THEY WERE CELLMATES, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Happy Gallavich, M/M, Set between 9x6 and 10x2, cellmates, prison boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaitlinH27/pseuds/KaitlinH27
Summary: They'd had enough with the discussions about their tangled past during the first few weeks of their state issued cohabitation. They'd moved on to being ridiculously, inappropriately happy to be spending most of their days alone together in an eight by ten cell."We had fun together.""Yeah, all we did was bang.""We laughed too."
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 11
Kudos: 127





	We Laughed Too

**Author's Note:**

> There's a shortage of fics written about the honeymoon period Gallavich had in prison, so I hope you enjoy this insomnia induced little ficlett of Ian and Mickey laughing together.

* * *

"Hmm…” Ian pondered as he tore off the edge of a piece of paper in his lap. His eyes lit up as he crumbled it between two fingers and handed it to Mickey “Oh! Okay, I cried in the arms of a four hundred pound dude after he blew me…”

“The fuck?!” Mickey asked, his brows pulled together, his hand held up in confusion.

“I nearly cried over a bag of Monica’s cocaine cause I missed her,” Ian continued as though Mickey hadn’t said anything, “And I beat a drug dealer with a bat cause his buddy was trying to drown Carl in the hot tub in our backyard.”

Ian and Mickey had been in prison together for a little over two months and they were on hour fifty-seven of Ian’s first lock down due to some kind of gang violence on the west block. They’d only been let out of their cell once since it'd started; a quick trip to the showers yesterday afternoon before they’d been quickly herded back into their cell.

They were starting to lose their minds with boredom so they were resorting to all sorts of mundane and childish games they could think of to pass the time. They ended up lounging on the top bunk, backs against opposite walls, clad only in their state issued boxers and tanks with their bare legs tangled in the middle. A heated game of two truths and a lie had broken out, Ian winning so far by a landslide.

“Bullshit!" Mickey laughed, throwing the tiny ball of paper in his own hand at Ian, the projectile bouncing off his forehead. Ian glared at Mickey, digging into the side of the mattress next to the wall to find the paper ball.

"What do you mean 'bullshit'?"

"Bullshit that any of that shit is true!"

“Just pick the lie Mick,” Ian scoffed. He tossed the paper ball towards the wall above the toilet, throwing his hands up in victory when it bounced directly into the center of the bowl.

"Fuck you Gallagher. This only works if you actually give me some real options to work with."

"I'm not making this shit up!” Ian exclaimed through a smile. Mickey raised an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes in response. “I mean I am making up one of—fuck man would you just stop being a whiny little bitch and pick one!"

Mickey help up his middle finger as he tossed another paper ball at the toilet with his free hand. "A’ight…I would say you didn't cry after a blow job but we both fuckin’ know that's not unusual for you.”

“It happened one fucking time with us,” Ian burst, holding his pointer finger up in emphasis as he continued, “and you never let it go. I swear to god Svetlana put some kinda Russian hex on my dick that day!”

Mickey threw his head back, his body nearly doubling over with laughter at Ian’s indignant expression.

Ian crossed his arms over his chest, trying his best to stay upset at Mickey’s teasing but finding it near impossible when the man was laughing that carefree and happy.

"Dick," he smirked, moving to kick at Mickey’s junk, Mickey collecting himself enough to catch Ian’s foot before he could make contact.

“Aye!” Mickey warned, still smiling but having calmed himself down enough to continue. “Okay. You gettin’ all emotional over Monica's drugs sounds likely, so I guess that leaves the Carl one as the lie. No way you Gallaghers moved up enough in the world to have a damn hot tub in your backyard."

"EENHHHH!" Ian interjected in an obnoxious imitation of a gameshow buzzer, Mickey’s face scrunching in annoyance at the sound. "Wrong! For one glorious week, the Gallagher house had a ten person hot tub bought with dirty money.”

"Carl dealing again?" Mickey questioned, crumbling up another small piece of paper and tossing it to the wall, the projectile bouncing off, hitting the back tank and rolling into the bowl. Mickey held his hands out in victory, turning to look at Ian with a wide smile.

"Nice!” Ian beamed, reaching down to rub the skin of Mickey’s ankle affectionately. “No, he’s done with that life. Military school has been really good for him.” They shared mournful smiles, Ian shrugging slightly as they both thought of his childhood aspirations. “But for a few months right after Monica died he used his old contacts to push some shit we found in her storage unit. Not like we could just leave sixty grand worth of drugs laying around.”

"Sixty grand?” Mickey choked, his eyebrows climbing up towards his airline. “You shittin' me?”

“Nope, “ Ian replied with a shake of his head. “Doesn’t matter now. Turns out it wasn’t Monica’s. She stole it from her boyfriend.”

“Sounds like Monica,” Mickey scoffed. "So that means you cryin’ in the arms of some hairy fat fuck after he sucked you off is the lie?”

“Oh no that definitely happened,” Ian chuckled, shaking his head at himself. He sat up, extracting his legs from where they were tangled with Mickey’s, running his hands through his hair to push it back from where it’d fallen in front of his eyes. “But that’s a story for another time.” He gave Mickey a self-satisfied smile. "Monica's drug was Meth, not blow.”

"Sneaky bastard, that’s fuckin’ cheating!”

“No it’s fucking not,” Ian laughed, throwing the pillow from behind his back at Mickey. “Your turn.”

“Whatever man,” Mickey scoffed. He pulled his legs up to rest his elbows on his knees as he thought through what to say. After a moment he knocked his knuckle against his nose and held his hand up to count his three things on his fingers as he said them. "I got chased butt naked down a street in Mexico…”

“Hmm,” Ian contemplated, studying Mickey’s face as he continued.

“…I unknowingly ate Escamole at a very confusing dinner party with the family of this dude who helped me get fake papers a couple days after I crossed the border…” He raised an eyebrow at Ian, a mischievous smile pulling his lips upward. "And I had a threesome in Juàrez with a very freaky middle aged gay couple that didn't speak a lick of English."

Ian froze, his hand raised pre-release of another paper ball, squinting thoughtfully as he studied Mickey's smug expression. A cocky smile overtook Ian’s face and he released the ball at the toilet bowl, using that same hand to point at his boyfriend; "The threesome is a damn lie."

"Fuckin’ hell Gallagher!" Mickey shouted, rolling off the bunk and landing on his feet. Ian guffawed, his face tipped up to the ceiling as he threw his head back in amusement. Mickey tossed his middle finger up behind his back as he stood in front of the toilet to relieve his bladder.

"I’m three for mother-fuckin’-three at calling you out on your bullshit!” Ian exclaimed, pushing himself off the bunk. “You owe me a blow job after lights out."

"I owe you fuck all!” Mickey spat. “…and even if I did, I was gonna blow you anyway just cause I fuckin’ wanted to.”

Ian walked up behind him, hands resting on Mickey’s hips, his lips brushing against his boyfriend's skin as he whispered in his ear. "Maybe so but it's so much more satisfying knowing your mouth is full of cock because I won." He tilted his head to bite at Mickey’s neck, the brunette reaching back with his clean hand to smack away Ian’s face. He flushed the toilet and moved over to wash his hands, a smirking Ian taking his turn at the toilet.

Mickey smacked Ian’s ass, hard, the sound echoing throughout the small space. He yelped at the contact and turned to glare at Mickey. They moved in the small space in silence for a moment, Ian washing his hands while Mickey took a seat on the bottom bunk.

"I am curious about the running down the street naked thing though," Ian pondered lowering himself to the cold cement floor in the middle of their tiny cell, hands behind his head as he started in on a round of crunches.

“Well—” Mickey started, one shoulder lifting in a shrug, "The freaky middle-aged couple was actually just a freaky middle-aged _married_ shit-bag whose wife came home mid fuck.”

Ian jaw dropped in incredulous amusement, a huff of laughter escaping as he kept up with his crunches. Mickey’s brow raised chuckling softly at the memory.

“Lemme tell you, not one fucker in the cartel is half as scary as a Mexican bitch with a butterfly knife that just caught her husband with a dick up his ass.”

Ian burst out laughing, his body collapsing back mid crunch. Mickey eyes crinkled as his lips curled up in a smile, loving how happy Ian looked. He took the opportunity to join him on the floor, straddling Ian’s thighs. Mickey leaned down so they were chest to chest, his elbows resting on either side of Ian's head. Ian reached up to rest his hands on Mickey's hips, pushing up his tank undershirt to caress the warm skin underneath.

"Was the sex at least worth it until the interruption?" Ian asked, his laugh petering out. He looked up to study Mickey's face, the man on top of him watching his own hands play with Ian's ridiculous looking hair, a third of the color his natural red, the ends a faded out black.

"Not really," Mickey said with a shrug. "Only lay that was ever worth getting my ass beat over was you."

The smile slipped off Ian’s face, his eyes darting guilty to the side for a moment before turning back to Mickey's. He reached up to cup Mickey’s cheek with one hand, sighing sadly as they shared a silent, melancholic moment. They'd had enough with the discussions about their tangled past during the first few weeks of their state issued cohabitation…they'd moved on to being ridiculously, inappropriately happy to be spending most of their days alone together in an eight by ten cell.

Mickey leaned down and planted a soft kiss to Ian's lips, Ian’s hand moving to the back of his boyfriend’s head, holding him in place as their lips opened, their tongues moving languidly together in a kiss so tender Mickey could feel Ian’s love for him in his bones. It was his turn to sigh softly when they broke apart, his eyes staying closed as he pressed another kiss to the soft smile on Ian’s mouth.

Mickey rested their foreheads together, his fingers tracing Ian’s jawline as the redhead’s thumb on his hip moved gently back and forth across his skin. Having had enough of the emotionally charged moment Mickey sat up, his ass resting heavily on Ian's thighs, mouth turning up in a cheshire grin.

"Want me to blow you now?” Mickey offered, his eyebrow raised in question, his hands grazing just above the line of Ian’s boxers. “Cash in that reward.”

“Nah,” Ian declined even as he returned Mickey’s grin with a mischievous one of his own, his palms smoothing down Mickey's biceps. "Wanna enjoy it. Don't wanna get interrupted by a—"

A sharp tap of a baton to the metal of their cell door caused them both to start. Mickey looked up at the sound, Ian's head tilted backwards and upside down at the guard glaring at them through the glass.

"—guard,” Ian finished, looking up to meet Mickey’s eyes. “We'll wait until after lights out."

"Milkovich!" The guard scolded, banging his baton against the door again. “Up! Fuck on your own time.”

"Our own time?” Mickey huffed incredulously, not moving off of Ian’s lap, his hands held up in question. “We’re in the middle of a fuckin’ lockdown. What the fuck else are we gonna do?"

“Drop the damn attitude and get off your cellmate’s dick.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Mickey conceded, rolling his eyes as he pushed himself up. He clapped his palm against Ian’s, their hands wrapping together as he helped him up off the floor. They quickly disconnected their hands and held them up in surrender, assuring the CO that no funny business was happening during waking hours. The man scowled and shook his head before moving on, Mickey and Ian trying to suppress their amusement as they looked at each other.

"A’ight as much fun as your girly two truths and a what-the-fuck-ever game was, I'm over that shit."

"Okay, so what's your genius idea to pass the time then? We still have another four hours 'til dinner."

Ian leaned against the wall, his fingers intertwined behind his head, his toned arms catching Mickey's gaze. Mickey's tongue darted out to lick at his lips before pulling the bottom one in between his teeth. Ian threw a cocky smile at his horny boyfriend and flexed, further accentuating his prison built biceps.

“Fuck you man," Mickey laughed turning to flop down on his back on the bottom bunk. "You know we can't bang right now. Stop fucking with me."

Ian scoffed in faux innocence, a hand held against his chest as the other dropped down to his side. "Mick, I would never..." he trailed off, flexing his arm at his side, turning it so his triceps would stand out even more in the shadows of the florescent lighting. Ian looked down at his arm, then back up at Mickey under his lashes.

Mickey whipped a roll of toilet paper at him, the roll bouncing off Ian's back when the man turned to defend his body from the soft weapon.

"Alright I’m done teasing you," Ian replied cheekily, plopping down on the edge of the bottom bunk next to Mickey’s sprawled out form. “You think of something to do. Toilet basketball and that stupid game Debbie used to play is all I could think of."

Mickey hummed, looking around the cell, his fingers tapping against his stomach in thought. His eyes landed once again on Ian’s biceps and he subconsciously flexed his own. Eyebrows rising up his forehead, he smirked at Ian. "Push up contest?"

"Loser cleans the toilet for the next two weeks?" Ian replied immediately.

"You're on Mr. Clean!" Mickey exclaimed, lifting his legs up from the bunk and around Ian to sit next to him.

"Mr. Clean is bald," Ian stated obviously, glaring at Mickey.

"Yeah well, you don't do something about your hair soon I'm gonna bribe McAdams into slipping me his electric razor so I can shave your head while you sleep. Sick of looking at that fuckin’ anime hair."

Ian scrunched his face up in disgust, hitting Mickey in the chest with the back of his hand. "You'd rather I was bald then wait for the red to grow out more?"

"I'd rather fuck Mr. Clean than 2006 Pete Wentz," Mickey scoffed as he stood up, stretching out his arms and rolling his head side to side.

Ian lurched up, shoving Mickey into the wall as he grabbed his outstretched arms and pinned them above his head. Mickey grunted in surprise when Ian pressed his lips against Mickey's in a firm but chaste kiss. Ian pulled back just enough so he could look at Mickey, smiling playfully, breath mingling together.

"Alright Mick, new deal…"

"What's that?" Mickey asked, blue eyes meeting green as he easily slipped his wrists from Ian's grip and wrapped his arms around the partial redhead’s shoulders.

"If you win," Ian started, his hands sliding down Mickey's sides to grip his waist. "I’ll clean the toilet for two weeks, and I’ll buzz this shit looking dye job."

Mickey's cheeks lifted, his eyes crinkling as he smiled widely at the love of his life, his fingers spreading to comb through Ian's hair.

"But!" Ian declared, leaning forward to press his lips against Mickey’s mouth again, tongue pushing past his boyfriend’s lips in a brief but deliciously dirty make-out session. Mickey groaned, pressing the length of his body to Ian’s, their arms wrapping tightly around each other. Mickey swayed slightly when Ian pulled back, his lips automatically trying to get back to Ian’s even though he was stepping away from Mickey. "If I win, you clean the toilet for two weeks, and you owe me one blow job a day for three."

"Fuckin’ deal." Mickey pressed a quick kiss to Ian's lips before shoving him away with a hand to the face. “Get to it Fall Out Boy.”

“Fuck off Milkovich.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Captain_Jowl for inspiring my brain for this with her fic All The Way. Go read it!


End file.
